Page 31 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)

Fifteen minutes later after some explanations and name-dropping, Plank came on the line. “My biographer. What can I do for you, Professor?”

“I need your…criminal mind.”

Plank responded. “It’s all yours. Did Miss Jessica figure out why the Kitsap Killer wants to reward her?”

“We’ve moved way beyond that. The Kitsap Killer is Jessica’s half brother. He took her somewhere, and I don’t know where. Where would he take her? Where would he want to kill her?”

Plank gave a low hum. “Really, Professor. Perhaps you’re not the one to write my story. This is an obvious one. He’d want to take her to where their story began. Where he was forged in hate and resentment and envy. Where he still lives every day of his life.”

Finn ended the call, cutting off Plank without a thank-you. Of course. How could he be so dense? Dermott was taking Jessica to the family home, and it wasn’t far from here. He could be there within a half an hour—but would he find Jessica dead or alive?

* * *

J ESSICA CLENCHED HER hands in her lap as David drove them toward the Bangor Trident Submarine Base on the other side of the peninsula. The drive took about twenty minutes, but as the miles passed, Jessica felt as if she was going back in time—to a very bad place.

A navy buddy of Jessica’s grandfather had allowed Mom to live in his house north of the base with her children almost for free.

The man had never checked on the property—or Mom.

He’d moved to Hawaii when he retired from the service and had owed Tammy’s father a big favor from their time in the navy. The house was his payback.

She’d taken Finn there once after Tiffany’s murder. The place gave her the creeps, and she’d never been back. But it had been hard to refuse David.

He wanted to see the last place he’d been with his sisters and bio mom. He knew where it was. Maybe that’s why he had suggested Kingston in the first place. He already had this plan in mind when he agreed to meet her.

“We’re getting close, aren’t we?” David flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I hope you’re not expecting too much, David. The last time I was there, the house was a ramshackle mess. It’s probably even worse now, or maybe the owner sold it, and a new family is living there.”

He lifted his shoulders. “That doesn’t matter. I just want to see it. Maybe if you tell me about our family while we’re there, it will mean more, give us that bond.”

She lifted one side of her mouth in a weak smile. Maybe over time, she and David could form some sort of sibling connection, but that immediate spark between them hadn’t materialized.

She didn’t blame him. She and Tiffany had been so close, she’d expected the same from a brother, but she and David had never even met before today, despite that first impression. When he first spoke, his voice struck a chord of familiarity in her psyche.

“This is the way, correct?” He’d slowed down where a smaller road branched off the main one on the way to Lofall.

“That’s it.” Jessica tugged her jacket closer around her body. Once David saw the place, he’d understand that it didn’t hold good memories for her—not the kind of memories she’d want to share with a long-lost brother.

As they headed down the road, darkness closed in on them from the looming trees.

His headlights picked out a few other properties on the edge of town, tucked away from the bay and the sparkling homes that inhabited its shores.

This area was definitely the bad side of town, the “waterfront” a dirty creek, the people here recluses or meth heads or both.

She gave a nervous laugh. “Not much to look at.”

“That doesn’t matter to me. A person has to see his roots, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” She jabbed a finger at the windshield as a dark, hulking structure came into view. “That’s it. The old homestead.”

He wheeled the car into the dirt driveway in front of the house, the headlights shining a glaring spotlight on all its misery.

The front windows, both broken, stared balefully at anyone who approached.

The porch sagged, a booby trap for anyone who dared to darken the door.

The screen door hung from one hinge, and in the wind, must emit a fearsome squeal further warning off strangers.

“Looks like he never sold it—or did anything to repair it.” She turned to him, suddenly afraid to get out of the car. “It’s a mess. No place to reminisce. Let’s head into town here and get some dessert. I’ll tell you all about Mom and Tiffany there.”

But he’d already cut the engine and had his fingers on the door handle. “Humor me, Jessica. I remember a creek out back.”

Before she could continue to reason with him, he scrambled from the car, leaving the door open in his haste. As she watched him slog through the weeds in the front to reach the dirty trickle of water that ran behind the property, Jessica unclicked her seat belt.

How could he possibly remember the creek? He’d been younger than two when he left. Had he been out here by himself before?

As she twisted in her seat, the dome light illuminated a gray backpack tossed onto the back seat. The corner of what looked like a knit cap was caught in the zipper. Was it red?

“C’mon, Jessica. I found the creek and the picnic table.”

The picnic table . A sour taste flooded her mouth as she remembered hiding beneath the rotting wood of the picnic table as Tiffany told one of the enraged stepdaddies that Jessica had run into the woods to avoid the strap.

She gagged recalling the sound of that strap as it connected with Tiffany’s bare legs.

“Jessssica!”

David’s singsong voice brought her back to reality, and she staggered out of the car and followed his trail through the tall weeds.

She rounded the house and found him standing next to the creek, which had widened since she’d last seen it. “This is it, David. Not much of anything to see, and…honestly, this place doesn’t hold very fond memories for me.”

“Really?” He cocked his head. “You grew up with your mother and your sister.”

This place had animated her brother. Even his posture seemed different—more erect, more vital, more…aggressive.

“My mother, who had issues, my sister and a series of nasty, abusive men.”

“Was my father one of those nasty, abusive men?”

“I-I don’t really remember him. Navy man, didn’t stick around long. None of them did.” She didn’t want to tell David she’d remembered his father as a violent drunk.

“I didn’t stick around long. Somebody ratted out Tammy.”

Her head jerked up. “Ratted out? I mean, I guess so. She couldn’t care for you. It was for the best.”

“Best for whom? You and Tiffany? You got all Tammy’s attention, and she sent me away.”

Jessica’s fingertips began to buzz. This felt off. Why had David’s demeanor changed? He couldn’t possibly believe the things he was saying.

“Believe me, David. You were the lucky one. You got a loving, adoptive family while Tiffany and I had to deal with all of Mom’s problems.”

Then he laughed, a high-pitched cackle that she’d heard before, and the blood in her veins turned ice cold.